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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846595">boyfriend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy'>dizzy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Phandom Reverse Bang, dan is not a youtuber, phil is but not much is said about that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:34:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the one year anniversary of officially coming out to everyone in his life, Dan starts patronizing a local gay club to hopefully meet someone and somehow ends up falling into a rom com trope of a night. </p><p>Please go check out the art this fic was inspired by! <a href="https://hiwatari-art.tumblr.com/post/621567554877620224/lets-pretend-white-nights-watercolors">It's by hiwatari-art, and you can see it here.</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Phandom Reverse Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>boyfriend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dan lives an alright life, he figures. </p><p>Not as good as it could be. Better than it was a year ago. </p><p>He has a good therapist. A couple decent friends. A video game addiction and no parents to tell him off for it. A job that... well. A job, at least. One he's managed to keep for enough years now that his cv won't look like he habitually quits and/or is fired from every position he manages to get. </p><p>What he doesn't have is a boyfriend. A partner. A social life, to speak of. </p><p>So when the mood strikes him he does what any lonely gay twenty something experiencing the first wave of true comfort in their sexuality does. </p><p>He hits the clubs. </p><p>-</p><p>He went to a few clubs at uni, and he hated them. Dragged out of his cave of a room in the halls to a place that felt somehow both too dark and too bright at the same time, air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol and cheap perfume. </p><p>He'd done the whole bit. Danced. Drank too much. Went home with girls. </p><p>Went home with boys. Or - not home, usually. But somewhere with them. Somewhere he'd emerge from twenty minutes later with swollen lips and a badly buttoned up shirt. </p><p>Never got any numbers back then, but he gets a few now. </p><p>And does fuck all with them. Even though he came here to get them. Even though every night he spends alone with his hand jerking on his dick he thinks about how there's nothing stopping him from pulling. </p><p>Why? Because he's Dan Howell, that's why. The man infamous for never being able to make up his mind and never knowing what he actually wants. </p><p>-</p><p>He never comes to these sorts of places with friends. </p><p>Bryony would love to join him. She'd be thrilled if he asked. But he hasn't said anything to her about... anything. She knows he came out to his family, that's all. Doesn't even know he did it over email. </p><p>He compartmentalizes too much. She tells him that every chance she gets. He usually waves it off. </p><p>Compartmentalizing is good, he thinks. Keeps everything nice and tucked away in its right spot. </p><p>A friend wouldn't be the worst thing right now, though. Not with this drunk guy hounding him, sliding a hand around Dan's hip with at touch of ownership that Dan will be fucked if any person on this earth asserts over him. </p><p>So what if this guy has proper gym rat biceps and they're almost the same height? Dan's temper simmers to a rolling boil. He had his fair of punches as a teenager, he can take them - and, unlike his teenage self, he can give one right back. Maybe no more than one, but at least one. </p><p>"You sweet thing, you just need to work those cock sucking lips on me..." The man slurs. He might actually be attractive if not for his whole overbearing and creeptastic personality exuding through his pores. </p><p>"Oh wow, there you are!" A voice bright and says right in his ear. "I thought I'd lost you, babe."</p><p>A hand settles on Dan's shoulder. Dan thinks they must know each other and he's ready to turn and maybe deck this second guy as well when he realizes the drunk guy is teetering back. </p><p>"Do you need some help?" The man that just approached has black hair pushed back high on his forehead and he's wearing a maroon button down with a pattern of small.. paw prints? Yeah, Dan realizes. Definitely paw prints. "My brother owns the bar, I'm sure I can give him a call - or maybe Jerry, over there, he works the door-" </p><p>Drunk guy sneers but decides getting into trouble with the owner's brother isn't worth it. </p><p>If he's even actually the owner's brother. </p><p>"Does your brother really own this place?" </p><p>The man's hand falls away. "Yeah, he does. I'm Phil, by the way. And you're welcome." </p><p>"For what?" Dan asks. </p><p>Phil looks taken aback. "Helping...?" </p><p>It's on the tip of Dan's tongue to tell Phil he didn't need any help, but he stops because he realizes - </p><p>Well, he's a bit of an ass sometimes. That's what he realizes. </p><p>So he cuts the rant about bodily autonomy and not needing a white knight short and swallows it down like so much cheap rum. "Thanks." </p><p>"Oh." Phil still looks wary. "Well, you're welcome." </p><p>"You already said that," Dan says. </p><p>"Right. I guess I did." Phil shrugs. His skin is pale and he's got freckles on his neck. Dan always goes to the neck. He has a neck thing. </p><p>Fetish. Neck fetish.</p><p>Neckish? </p><p>Nah, doesn't work. </p><p>He likes necks.</p><p>"Was the pretending to be my boyfriend thing necessary? Couldn't you have just said your brother owns the place and told him fuck off?" Dan asks. </p><p>"Oh. Um." Phil looks flustered. His neck flushes a little red. </p><p>Not that he's inspecting this guy's neck for its potential. </p><p>Or that it would matter even if he were, because Phil's backing away with a strange sheepish smile and a hand wave. "Well, alright, then. I'll be on my way." </p><p>After a few more minutes for his paranoia about drunk-and-handsy to build, Dan is on his way too. </p><p>-</p><p>But he’s back a few weeks later. </p><p>Because he’s still bored. He’s still horny. He’s still chasing some lingering demons that tell him Saturday night alone in his flat alternating between anime and shitty porn doesn’t fit into this whole New Dan, Who Dis lifestyle he’s adopted in every other aspect of his life. </p><p>He just wishes sexual exploration on a somewhat more social platform than his couch at home weren’t both expensive (for the quality of drinks he’s getting) and noisy. </p><p>Where do the agoraphobics go to gather? He grins down at his drink and imagines what an agoraphobics anonymous meeting would look like. A lot of empty chairs and lost potential. Or maybe gained potential? An empty room sounds awfully nice right now, is his point. </p><p>He looks around. There was a guy earlier he thought about sliding up beside, maybe asking him to dance. </p><p>Dan spots the guy already dancing with someone else. He makes a face at them and then goes back to his drink. How long does he sit here before he gives up? </p><p>He’s actually sliding off of his seat when he spots a familiar face across the room.</p><p>The face is looking back at him… and smiling. </p><p>Dan smiles back. It’s the guy from last time, his fake boyfriend. After a second of debating it he raises his hand and gives a little salute. </p><p>He only means it to be a greeting, just an acknowledgement. Hey, yeah, we had that mutual thing that happened and we spent a total of two minutes in each other’s company. </p><p>Phil stands up though - and Dan has a moment of weird panic flurries in his chest. Phil’s coming over. In a second his mind processes that, half of him thinking it’s weird and the other half imagining what Phil’s teal button up is going to look like on his bedroom floor. </p><p>Getting ahead of himself? </p><p>Yep. He does that sometimes. </p><p>Phil does come over… and he does end up standing in the spot beside Dan, but he’s looking toward the bartender. </p><p>Oh, right. Because Dan is sitting at the bar. That place people go to order their drinks. </p><p>Which Phil is doing. Ordering a drink. </p><p>Not chatting Dan up. </p><p>But he does look at Dan with a friendly, “Hi there, boyfriend.” </p><p>Phil looks like he’s had a few already. His shirt has pineapples on it. Pineapples. He’s almost too distracted by the pineapples to notice how the first couple buttons are undone and he can see just a tiny peek of chest hair. </p><p>“Is that your job here?” Dan asks. “Hanging around playing boyfriend for patrons of this fine establishment?” </p><p>“Fine establishment.” Phil’s eyes flicker to the stage across the room and he grins fondly. A drag queen is badly belting out Born this Way. “Sure. I mean, no! No. I’d just been watching that guy be a twat all night. I wanted to get Drake to kick him out already.” </p><p>“Drake?” Dan asks. </p><p>“The bouncer.” Phil points to the bulky guy by the door. “His name is Drake.” </p><p>“Like the singer?” </p><p>“Like the mallard,” Phil says. </p><p>“I think those are spelled the same way.” </p><p>“Well, of course they are,” Phil says. “How else would you spell Drake?” </p><p>“I-” Dan stops and laughs. “You are so weird.” </p><p>Phil’s drink appears in front of him. It has about a million cherries in it. Phil beams at the bartender and says, “Thanks, Corn.” He lifts the glass and tilts his head toward Dan. “Catch you later, boyfriend.” </p><p>-</p><p>He goes home alone again, and doesn’t go back the next week. </p><p>He would, actually. But he’s in the pre-payday skint phase of the month. </p><p>Porn may be sometimes boring and ethically dubious, but it’s free. </p><p>-</p><p>But then there’s money in his account and he finds himself walking back into the club  at just shy of ten on a Friday night. </p><p>He tells himself there isn’t one specific person he’s looking for. One specific head of dark hair, sort of blue when the lights bounce off of it, and soft white skin. </p><p>Hey Siri, is it weird to fixate on someone you had two brief social interactions with because it’s the closest you’ve come to actually talking to a presumably out gay man in a situation where it’s also reasonable for them to assume that you are also an out gay man? </p><p>She’d probably just quote song lyrics back at him. Useless artificial intelligence that’ll probably soon dominate the world. Actually, could it just hurry up? That’d solve a lot of Dan’s problems. Sure, he’ll be subjugated under the rule of the all knowing Eye of Apple, gazing across the smouldering remains of the world from Mount Silicon Valley, but at least he won’t have to worry about dating. </p><p>Flush with payday riches, he orders something called a Silly Dibbit. It comes back fruitier than he expected (ha, a voice in his mind fills in) - an almost fluorescent blue green color and an explosion of rum and melon and pineapple and pure sugar on his tongue. </p><p>It’s fucking delicious, actually. Emboldened by being able to afford something that doesn’t taste like watered down piss, he turns on his barstool to survey the crowd. </p><p>Two very attractive men are all but dry humping on the dance floor. Heat crawls up the back of his neck. He turns the other way. </p><p>And there’s Phil. As if he can sense Dan looking, his eyes lighting up. He raises his drink and then says something to the woman standing beside him - the redheaded bartender Dan recognizes from last time he was around. </p><p>Then Phil is… </p><p>Wait, what? </p><p>He’s walking over. </p><p>Dan’s stomach is suddenly buzzing. Phil pauses once to talk to someone and give them a polite smile before he keeps going toward Dan. </p><p>He’s wearing a dark blue shirt this time. It has little anchors on it. </p><p>Dan takes another drink. It’s too expensive to down like bottom shelf tequila, so he savors it instead. </p><p>Phil looks at him again and if Dan wasn’t sure before, he is now. Phil’s actually walking over. </p><p>Until suddenly he’s not walking. He stumbles and flails a little and ends up grabbing onto someone’s shoulder. Dan watches with a mixture of amusement and second hand embarrassment as Phil seems to be profusely apologizing. </p><p>Phil’s face is red by the time he gets to Dan. “You didn’t see that,” he says. </p><p>“I didn’t see anything.” Dan pretends to go along with it.. for a moment. “Except you tripping. Definitely saw that.” </p><p>“I hate you,” Phil says immediately, then slides into the seat beside Dan. “Enjoying it?” </p><p>“What?” Dan asks. </p><p>Phil nods at Dan’s glass. “The drink. Do you like it?” </p><p>“I mean, yeah,” Dan says. “Could be stronger.” </p><p>“I made it!” Phil says proudly. </p><p>“No you didn’t,” Dan says. “I watched that guy make it.” </p><p>“Person,” Phil says. “Not guy. That’s Avery. They go by they.” </p><p>“My bad,” Dan says. “I watched them make it, though.” </p><p>“Off of my recipe!” Phil insists. “It’s even named after me! It’s how I used to say my name as a baby.” </p><p>“You named an alcoholic beverage after something you used to say as a toddler?” Dan acts unphased even though he actually thinks it’s pretty damn cute. </p><p>Neutrality is a coping mechanism for his social anxiety. </p><p>“Well, technically my brother did,” Phil says. “But I told him if he was appropriating my name for a cocktail he had to let me pick the recipe.” </p><p>“Fair enough,” Dan decides. </p><p>There’s a beat of silence. </p><p>“So,” Phil says. “Any creepy drunk guys hitting on you this time?” </p><p>“Nope,” Dan says. “Not even any uncreepy ones.” </p><p>Phil looks surprised. “I find that hard to believe.” </p><p>And, well, Dan’s ego likes that. “That so?” </p><p>Phil looks Dan over. Checking him out, one might say. Dan himself might even say, if not for all those crippling issues of self worth distorting his ability to rate his own attractiveness to other men without also delving into what they might want from him and what that want might feed into said issues of self worth and what’s healthy vs. something he’ll just bring up in therapy in six months time.</p><p>But then Phil says, “I mean. Yeah,” and Dan decides this might be worth the inevitable therapy session. “What’s your name, anyway? Unless you want me to just keep calling you boyfriend." </p><p>Please, Dan thinks, and then says, “I’m Dan.” </p><p>-</p><p>Phil’s nice. </p><p>Cute. Bit of a northern accent muddled in with London vowels. Tall and long-limbed in a way that's similar to what Dan sees when he looks in his own mirror. Phil was probably a gangly teenager just like Dan, Dan thinks, but adulthood fills out some of those lanky places. </p><p>Adulthood, no matter what malleable teenage clay it started with, has done wonders for Phil. Dan keeps looking at those top two buttons undone and the way his Adam’s apple pokes out starkly against his skin. </p><p>God. He’s so fucking thirsty. </p><p>-</p><p>Phil stays for almost an hour, before someone calls him over. “That’s my brother,” Phil says. </p><p>The blaring red alarm bells in Dan’s head that would have, before all of that therapy, been unrecognized but immediate irrational jealousy, quiet down to a slow pulse of color. Dan is not a slave to his gut reactions anymore. He just… lives in peace with them. Recognizes them. Doesn’t allow them to control him. </p><p>Just allows them to color his internal monologue with snide commentary. </p><p>None needed this time, though. “Oh, the one who owns the place?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Phil says. “I think they’re setting up the drag show for the night. He probably wants my help. You should stay for it, it’s going to be good tonight.” </p><p>Dan doesn’t ask what kind of help Phil provides, just gives him a friendly shrug and says, “I might.” </p><p>Phil’s hand drops onto his shoulder and squeezes. “See you later, boyfriend.” </p><p>As soon a Phil has disappeared through the double doors beside the bar, Dan gets up and leaves. </p><p>-</p><p>He doesn’t see Phil the next time he does. </p><p>But he does get hit on. </p><p>It’s a tall guy with dark skin and wandering hands. He has a rich, deep laugh that makes Dan tingle down to the tips of his toes. They kiss under the strobing lights and it’s good, wet and deep and delicious. </p><p>It’s good. </p><p>But Dan goes home alone. </p><p>-</p><p>“What you having tonight, mate?” Avery asks. They’ve got two piercings through their nose and a tattoo of a Pokemon on their neck. </p><p>Dan is basically a regular now, he realizes. </p><p>“Extra shot,” Avery says. “On the house.” </p><p>“Really?” Dan asks. “I mean, I’m not complaining.” </p><p>Avery laughs. “I mean, you basically get the family discount, right?” </p><p>Well, Dan thinks. They treat their regulars very well here. </p><p>-</p><p>Phil looks absolutely delicious tonight, a red shirt patterned with roses and black jeans. Dan finds a supply of bravery rooted in impatience and decides waiting is for fucking losers, he’s approaching Phil first this time. </p><p>He expects Phil to be excited - or at the very least, receptive - but instead Phil’s eyes go wide and he looks alarmed. </p><p>He breaks away from whoever he’s talking to and meets Dan halfway through the crowd of people. “Hi,” he says, sounding breathless. “Dan. Hi.” </p><p>“That is my name,” Dan says. “Um, hi?” </p><p>His voice lifts on the end with clear confusion. </p><p>“I’m - you’re gonna laugh,” Phil says in a rush. “I hope you’re gonna laugh. Or you’re going to punch me. But please don’t punch me. I bruise like a peach and it would be really awkward to explain to work that I got punched.” </p><p>“I’m not the fighting sort,” Dan says. “Also, what the fuck is going on?” </p><p>Phils hand slides down Dan’s arm. Long fingers close around his wrist. What does this count as, Dan thinks? Twelfth base? Does the base system even work like that? Or does it go in the opposite direction? Would twelfth base be like, anal fisting in full fetish gear on a sex swing, and what he’s at is like, .003 of one base? </p><p>He lets Phil drag him around the bar and through those mysterious doors. The hallway on the other side is darker and decidedly quieter, though the club noise thumps a muffled beat against the walls. </p><p>Down the hall, around a corner and up a flight of stairs. Dan finds himself in a comfortable lounge area that looks like almost the complete opposite of the atmosphere they left behind. “This is my office,” Phil says. “Sorry, just wanted some privacy. I - um. I might have fucked up a bit, Dan. And I’m sorry.” </p><p>Phil looks like he might climb out of his own skin. “What’d you do?” Dan asks, holding off on reassurances until he knows if Phil’s nerves are actually warranted. He genuinely can’t figure out what might be making Phil look at him like that. </p><p>“I, um. I - oh god.” Phil buries his face in his hands, then takes a breath and looks up. “My whole family thinks we’re dating.” </p><p>“What.” Dan’s voice is flat. </p><p>He’s not upset, really. Just - coping mechanism. </p><p>“I guess someone - I don’t know, one of the bartenders, maybe? Someone heard me call you boyfriend, and - they told my brother’s girlfriend. Who told my brother. Who told my mum.” </p><p>“Um. Wow.” Dan starts to grin. “So how long have e been dating?”</p><p>“Um… well, as far as my mum thinks, Martyn told her three weeks ago, apparently. I only found out when she confronted me when I went to see them for a few days last weekend.” Phil hides his face again. “Are you gonna punch me?” </p><p>Dan shrugs. “I dunno, man. Someone out there thinks I’m getting some, so maybe it’s not that bad.” </p><p>“Okay so… is that a yes or a no?” </p><p>Dan laughs. “Nah, I’m not gonna punch you, mate. Relax.” </p><p>“Okay good, now I can just die of mortification instead,” Phil says, sinking down into a cozy sofa. </p><p>Dan sits beside him, leaving distance between them. He really doesn’t know what to think, but he’s definitely not upset. Amused, maybe. Flattered. “I mean, I guess it’s a compliment,” Dan says. </p><p>Phil turns to look at him. “Yeah?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Dan says, shrugging. “I’ve never been cast as the foil in someone’s weird rom-com life episode.”</p><p>“I feel less like a romcom right now and more like a reddit post that’s gone viral,” Phil admits. “But I’m glad you’re not upset. I know we've only spoken a few times, but I just… I dunno. I think we get on, right?” </p><p>“I think so,” Dan says. “We get on.” </p><p>And I’d like to get you on me, Dan’s mental narrator supplies before Dan stuffs an imaginary ball gag in its imaginary mouth. </p><p>“So…” Phil sighs and gets that constipated look on his face again. </p><p>“So?” Dan prompts. “Is there more?” </p><p>“I just. When my mum asked me if I was dating someone and told me that Martyn ratted me out, I had to call Martyn and… it took me a while to figure out they meant you. Well, not a while. Not really. Martyn said that Cornelia said I was dating someone who had curly hair and wore black and was really attractive and - I mean, I don’t actually- anyway. I was so surprised I didn’t correct him, I just… let him think that we were dating. And then I let my mum think that, too. And they were so happy I was finally dating again-” </p><p>“Phil.” Dan prompts again, wondering what the point is. </p><p>“I’ll give you free drinks,” Phil says. “Lots of them.” </p><p>“If I…” </p><p>“Just… let me introduce you to my brother. I’ll say we broke up in a few weeks, it’s not like I’m asking you to pretend to date me for some elaborate scheme. Just - we can stop in and say hi and then leave.” </p><p>“Sure,” Dan says. </p><p>“Really?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Dan shrugs. “Free drinks, and I have nothing better to do.” </p><p>“Do we need to… I dunno. Hatch up a back story?” </p><p>Dan laughs. “I mean, do we? We met here, you saved me from a drunk groper, we hit it off?” </p><p>“Oh, I guess. I mean, yeah. That works.” </p><p>“My last name is Howell, though. In case you need to know that,” Dan says. “I’m twenty eight. I work for Deliveroo.” </p><p>“Like, on bikes?” </p><p>“I mean, that’s the company,” Dan says. “I do the online help desk.” </p><p>“Oh. Huh. I work in… media, I guess you could say.” </p><p>“Media? You guess you could say? Mate, do you do porn?” Dan asks. He’s not opposed to the answer being yes. </p><p>“No!” Phil quickly and forcefully answers. “I do youtube. Oh, also I work here. I’m the assistant manager.” ” </p><p>“Oh, wow,” Dan says. “You only said your brother owns it before.” </p><p>“Well, he does,” Phil says. “He’s the actual manager. I just… assist.” </p><p>“Is your brother gay, too?” Dan asks, then stops. “Wait, are you gay?” </p><p>Phil laughs. “Yeah, I am. He’s not.” </p><p>“How does a straight man end up owning a gay bar?” </p><p>“He said he wanted a job he could set flexible hours for,” Phil says. “And, it works out well for me. My youtube channel pays the bills but this gives me enough money to live by myself more comfortably.” </p><p>Dan also lives by himself. Comfortable? That’s up for debate. His flat does have a bed, a sofa, a television, and a kitchen with running water that’s hot at least half the time. Those things just all happen to be in the same room. He’s just glad there’s a separate space complete with actual walls for the toilet. </p><p>Phil doesn’t really need those details, he decides. </p><p>“Alright. So, Phil-” </p><p>“Lester.” </p><p>“Phil Lester. Does youtube - stalking you later, by the way,” he adds. It’s not as exciting as porn but… he’ll take what he can get. ”Helps manage this place. Your likes are….” </p><p>“Anime. Video games. Petting dogs but being too afraid to own one myself.” </p><p>Damn, Dan thinks. He might just be in love. </p><p>How does one transition fake dating into please marry me? </p><p>Fuck, he thinks. He’s not just horny. He’s horny and lonely. It’s a deadly combination, and Phil has very nice eyes. </p><p>-</p><p>Another twenty minutes of conversation and they’re walking back downstairs to the club. </p><p>Dan’s not actually that nervous. He’s a theater kid at heart. He can play a role. Especially this role, one he’s been eager to play his entire life. Boyfriend to person he’s genuinely attracted to. </p><p>Phil leads him over to a small platformed area. It’s roped off but not in a fancy, vip way; beyond it there’s just a scatter of chairs and one battered sofa. The redhead that Dan can now identify as Phil’s brother’s girlfriend is sat there, along with a guy Dan figures must be Phil’s brother, and a couple other people. </p><p>Halfway up to the seating area, Dan slides his hand into Phil’s. Phil gives him a surprised look but squeezes back. </p><p>Yeah. Dan’s gonna milk the shit out of this. </p><p>“Alright,” Phil says, once they step around the rope and approach the group of people. He’s doing his best put upon voice. “You can stop badgering me now. This is Dan.” </p><p>“Dan!” Cornelia’s face lights up. She seems to be drinking… a cup of tea? “It’s lovely to meet you!” </p><p>Martyn has a beer one one hand but raises the other. Dan meets it in a high five though every fiber of his being is just confused. “Oi,” he says. “Little brother treat right break legs blah blah brother talk. We good?” </p><p>Dan snorts. “Yeah, mate. We‘re good.” </p><p>“Ace. Have a seat, then!” He gestures around. </p><p>“Lazy bones,” Cornelia says. “Get up and let them have the sofa!” </p><p>Martyn sighs then hefts himself up and out of the spot on the sofa - right into Cornelia’s lap. She beats him with tiny fists of fury until he moves his ass into another actual chair. </p><p>Once they’re sat beside each other, Phil takes his hand again. </p><p>Dan leans back to enjoy the ride. </p><p>-</p><p>Phil’s friends - and his brother - are fucking hilarious. They spend half the time singing along with the music and half the time making fun of it, ordering drinks. </p><p>Dan gets his promised free ones - enough that it goes right to his head. </p><p>Maybe that’s why he lets one hand wander to Phil’s thigh - just above his knee, nothing too risque, but it stays there. </p><p>Probably also why he leans in when Phil’s arm goes around his shoulder. Eventually someone comes and takes the last spot on the sofa, leaving Dan even more in Phil’s space. </p><p>He’s drunk. He’s drunk and Phil smells nice. </p><p>“Hey, boyfriend?” Dan says right in Phil’s ear. </p><p>Phil turns to him. Their noses brush. “Yeah, boyfriend?” </p><p>His lips are so pink from the drink he’s been enjoying. Something with more cherries. Apparently Phil really likes cherry. </p><p>He’d probably taste like cherry. </p><p>“We should make sure we really sell this,” Dan whispers. </p><p>He sees Phil swallow. “Yeah? I mean, yeah. We should.” </p><p>Dan curls his fingers around Phil’s knee and squeezes, while at the same time he tilts his head just a bit. </p><p>Phil accepts the unspoken invitation and closes the minute distance between them. </p><p>He does taste like cherry. </p><p>When they pull away, Martyn wolf whistles sharply at them. </p><p>“Stop that,” Cornelia says, slapping him on the arm. “They’re sweet. Boys, you’re sweet.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Phil says, and takes Dan’s hand again, rubbing his thumb over the back of Dan’s palms. </p><p>Should he add getting a chub over a kiss and some hand holding to his therapy list? Nah, maybe he can just deal with that one. </p><p>-</p><p>He stays until the club starts to close up. Phil’s been yawning for the past hour but Dan wouldn’t normally be going to sleep until now anyway, thanks to his friends insomnia and disordered sleep schedule. </p><p>The sleepier Phil got the closer he cuddled in. Dan could do this all night. </p><p>But apparently no one else agrees because once the last patrons are escorted out into waiting cars to take their overly inebriated asses back to where they belong, the lights go up. The club just looks like a normal room now, and someone’s already taking a mop to the drink-stickied floor. </p><p>“You two can go on,” Martyn says, “I’m sure you’ve got important matters to attend to.” </p><p>“Hey!” Phil says, leaning into Dan. </p><p>Their fingers are still tangled. Dan turns into him and it’s weird how natural it is for Dan to press a kiss to that forehead. “Hey, he’s letting you leave early, let’s just take it.” </p><p>“Oh fine.” Phil still sticks his tongue out at Martyn. </p><p>-</p><p>Once they’re clear of the club, Phil lets go of his hand. </p><p>Dan feels that loss painfully. </p><p>“Thanks for all this,” Phil says. “I really appreciate it. You saved me a lot of awkwardness and embarrassment.” </p><p>“It was fun,” Dan says. Dan’s heart thuds. He didn’t realize he was waiting for an opportunity until one presented itself to him. “Besides, you can make it up to me.” </p><p>“Yeah?” Phil asks. “Of course, how?” </p><p>Now or never. </p><p>“Go out with me,” Dan says. “Somewhere… not here.” </p><p>Phil gapes at him, doing a fantastic impression of a fish. “Really?” </p><p>Dan shrugs. He starts to feel the fear and self doubt creep in, like blackness bleeding into the edges of an otherwise light-filled night. “I mean, you don’t actually have to. I just-” </p><p>“Yeah,” Phil interrupts him. “Of course. Dan, of course.” </p><p>“Really?” </p><p>Phil steps in. His teeth sink into his bottom lip. “I’d like that a lot.” </p><p>Dan grins. “Okay then.” </p><p>He means to ask for Phil’s number but Phil is stepping in again and touching Dan’s face with the same fingers that have been pressed against Dan’s own all night long, and then they’re kissing. The taste of cherry has dulled down to almost nothing but Phil’s tongue is wet and warm sliding against Dan’s own. </p><p>He gets a little lost in it. Or a lot lost in it. He’s basically stranded in this kiss without a map or gps and happy to live the rest of his days right the fuck here. </p><p>But he hears a familiar whistle behind them and Phil jerks away. Dan turns and Martyn’s there, grinning widely and holding two bin bags to take into the alley. “You couldn’t even make it home? For shame.” </p><p>“Shut up!” Phil shouts, flipping him off over Dan’s shoulder. </p><p>-</p><p>It’s close to dawn when he finally pours his exhausted and still not entirely sober body between the sheets of his bed. He’s got a mouth pleasantly numb from making out and plans for the next night. </p><p>As he plugs his phone in he sees a text message from his newest contact. Phil's touch, but the display name just reads <i>boyfriend</i>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you to hiwatari-art for inspiring this fic with their gorgeous watercolor, and to sarah for beta reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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